


You’re A Wreck (And So Am I)

by coquet



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: F/M, Kinda inspired by American Beauty, M/M, age gap, john’s life is crumbling, just the being miserable part though, paul has problems that become prevalent later on, they’re going to make very bad porno vids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-08 23:27:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19877827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coquet/pseuds/coquet
Summary: John meets Paul, an adult film star who wants to make videos with him.





	1. American Music

**Author's Note:**

> A crackhead version of American Beauty

Having a kid at seventeen had put a huge roadblock on his plan of making it big. _Post-rocker_ John Lennon got a mundane job as a book cover artist for a publishing house quickly after marrying Cynthia. At thirty-five, John felt he'd hit a dead end in life. Cynthia doesn't even waste her time trying to keep them together anymore. She claims that since Julian is now seventeen, they don't need to pretend anymore. John knows from experience that seventeen is a bad age to face reality. 

Julian noticed how unhappy his parents were, and as a result started acting out. Not a surprise to John, at least. Leaving in the middle of the night for parties was something John had done before Cyn had gotten pregnant. Not coming home until dawn even though his curfew was eleven was also something John used to do. 

What was a huge surprise, however, was when Julian began bringing home boys. John remembers when he'd bring girls just to spite Mimi, rise her blood pressure a bit. Julian usually brought home quiet, shy boys who were hard to hold a conversation with. It was quite amusing to him, watching those boys squirm and blush when he asked questions. 

John and Cynthia sat across from each other at the dinner table, waiting for Julian to show up with yet another mystery boy. It was odd, being alone with her for so long. They used to spend all of their time together, endless conversation after another about getting rich and being happy. 

"Have you tried getting in contact with him?" Cynthia finally speaks, breaking the horrid silence. 

"Besides the three texts I sent, no, I guess not," John quips. He feels bad for Cynthia, always receiving the brunt of his emotions. He's trapped, has been since Cynthia told him she was pregnant with tears in her eyes. 

"Please don't act like this when Julian comes home. He won't take it well," Cynthia sighed. God, were they fucking miserable. 

John braces himself when Julian does finally come home, throwing the door open carelessly and causing it to loudly thud against the wall. This time, the boy trailing behind him giggling at his antics. He was shocked to see what Julian was able to pull this time. 

He was raven-haired and doe eyed, with pale skin that was the fairest John had ever seen. His chest hurt, seeing such a beautifully handsome boy. 

"This is _Paul_ , " Julian announces, wide grin on his face, the happiest he's seen him in awhile. Presenting a _beauty_ like that, John's positive he'd be glowing too. 

Cynthia smiles, quick to stand up and shake his hand. "I'm Cynthia, and that is my husband John," she nods over to him. 

John's awestruck, watching Paul smile at him before taking a seat to his right. His mouth goes dry with Paul sitting so close to him, his androgynous features striking him in his gut.

"John, dig in," Cynthia brings his focus away from Paul. Her eyes were narrowed, she obviously noticed he'd been staring at Paul.

John looks down at his full plate, swallowing the lump in his throat. Julian and Paul are talking about some kid named George and he feels completely out of place. 

"He told me that you'd brought many other lads back to your parents." 

"George is lying. Jealous little shit, he is." 

"Jealous of me or jealous of you?" 

"Both." 

Paul laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. The food on his plate had disappeared, and John wonders how quickly he ate the food. 

It was hard trying to regain his appetite, but with Cynthia watching him he stabbed his fork in some steamed potatoes and nibbles on them. He should speak, act unaffected by this new boy. He should be unaffected by Paul.

"Mr. Lennon, is Julian lying to me?" Paul asks. He looks at him, little smile on his perfect face. 

John wants to hide. He was never called Mr. Lennon by any of the other boys Julian brought home. They weren't really the respectful type. 

"Jules is a lot of things. He's not a man whore, though," John wants to tell the truth, get Paul far away from his son. But Julian and Cynthia are here, and he wouldn't be prepared for the shit storm telling the truth would make. 

"Were you a man whore at Julian's age?" 

John can see Cyn tense. Seventeen year old John Lennon was a train wreck. He didn't give a single fuck about anything. Sometimes he wishes that he could be seventeen again, change things around. No baby. No marriage. No tears.

"'Course. Don't recommend it, though," John says as he flashes Paul a smile, trying to hide his pain. 

There's a hand on his knee. Paul's obviously the culprit, looking like the cat who caught the canary. He ignores the jolt of his stomach. It feels oddly soothing, having physical touch. He hasn't had that in a long time. 

"Who wants to help clear the table?" Cynthia's faux cheery voice filters through his cloudy mind. 

Paul's hand creeps up his thigh, running his nails along the fabric of his jeans. John's quick to abandon his full plate and stand up, agreeing with her. He picked up a few plates, ready to follow Cyn into the kitchen, before Paul speaks up. 

"You shouldn't have to prepare the food and clean the dishes. I'll help, you just sit down and relax," he offers, taking the dishes out of her hands before she can protest. 

John inwardly groaned. He felt like he was walking to his death, being next to awfully pretty Paul. Awfully pretty Paul who touched his knee. What was that about? 

He set the dishes in the sink, ignoring Paul looming behind him. They were here to clean. To stay clean. He wasn't gay, been there and done that.

"Are you alright, Mr. Lennon?" 

Has he ever been alright? Life was one punch in the gut and another until you died. He moved away from the sink, giving Paul room to place the dishes in it. 

"You can stop calling me Mr. Lennon. Appreciate the politeness an' all, but just call me John," he sighed. 

"Where's the fun in that?" 

John doesn’t know what to say, trying to make out what Paul was trying to tell him.  _Fun_ ? Was he just trying to mess with him?

“You don’t have to over think it,” Paul whispers, “I’m not all that interested in your son, no offense. I know about you, y’know. I found those vids you made way back when,” his hands find their way back on him, scaling up his arms. 

John’s back gave an involuntary shiver at the mention of the horribly bad videos he’d made whenever Cyn left with Jules for a week. They were hard to watch, the camera quality was extremely bad and he chose the most awkward people on the earth to fuck. 

“You found the pornhub vids? Are they that easy to find?” John’s slightly panicking, worried about a family member finding them or someone from work.

Paul smiled. “Me and Julian met up with a friend of yours. He said that Ringo was cool enough to bum pot off of. Well, Julian disappeared at some point and I asked about you. Ringo had  _a lot_ to say about you, and when he mentioned something about a porno I had to see it for myself. They took awhile to find, I think you’re fine.” 

“So you see some of my videos and think what? That you’ve got a chance with me and Julian now? You’re disgusting,” John shrugged off Paul’s hands. He wasn’t going to do Julian dirty like this. Paul wasn’t his to fuck no matter how good he looked. 

“Julian is just a friend. He had no one else to bring so I volunteered. Seemed like the perfect opportunity.” 

John furrowed his brows. Who’d want to go out of their way over some horrible videos he made years ago? Especially after Ringo  _and_ Julian gave their opinion about him. 

“What do you want from me, then?” John asked. He could at least hear Paul out. 

“I was thinking that you and me could, like, y’know... make some videos,” Paul says, ducking his head a bit. 

“What, are you some kind of pornstar?” John scoffed in disbelief. He feels a little concerned over what type of friends Julian was making, because Paul probably wasn’t the worse one. 

Paul nodded. “‘M only twenty, y’know. Got to use my good looks while I got ‘em,” he grins, “listen, John, I get paid a couple hundred for each video. We can split it fifty-fifty, if you want.” 

“John! What’s taking so long?” Cynthia yelled from the kitchen, frustration ever present in her voice. 

Paul looked at the entryway to the kitchen and then back at John. “I’ll give you my number and if you’re interested just text me, yeah?” 

John sighed and gave Paul his phone, chewing his lip as Paul added his contact. He’d think about it, sure. There was no harm in considering his options, he figured.

The rest of the night went without a hitch, Paul kept his distance with John and fucked around with Julian. He and Cynthia could hear their laughter from the bedroom, seeing as though it was dead silent. 

“I was thinking about getting my own apartment. That way we could have some time apart,” Cynthia said out of the blue, glancing at John from her book. 

“Of fuckin’ course you were. If you wanna leave just leave, I’m not stoppin’ you,” John spat, getting up and grabbing his phone. 

He went to the bathroom and sat on the closed toilet, looking at Paul’s contact. He hadn’t put his actual name, which John thought was weird. The longer he stared at the name the more he felt as though it was Paul’s pornstar name. 

John opened up safari and typed in ‘Macca’. 


	2. My Own Worst Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John makes things worse while trying to have the upper hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) thanks for all of the love on the first chapter!!
> 
> 2) the full quote for the asterisk is “Temptation is like a knife, that may either cut the meat or the throat of a man; it may be his food or his poison, his exercise or his destruction” by John Owen

John was surprised with what came up. Paul’s social media profiles were the first few links that showed up, followed by glaringly obvious porn links. It hurt his head, how out in the open his videos were. He’s too insecure and worried about other people’s opinions of him to be like Paul. If they did a video he’d be _asking_ for criticism, allowing  anyone  who  pleased to watch and laugh at how bad he was. 

He pushes his worries aside and decides to click on one of the links because he’s gotten this far and he might as well find out what makes people get off these days. 

The number of views is what catches his attention first as an ad played. It’s a swift punch to the gut, 400k people. He can’t imagine four hundred thousand people watching him have sex. His shabby videos stayed in the low thousands range, which he was thankful for. 

Then, as he exited out of the ad, he finally spotted the name of the video. If the number count startled him, the title sure as hell shocked the shit out of him. 

_Twink throatfucks built stud_

John had a loose idea of what a twink was from Julian after he went on monologuing about sex just to piss Cynthia off. Paul definitely wasn’t built, so John figures he’d be the one getting something akin to a blowjob. He doesn’t understand the purpose of using a word (was that even a real word?) like throatfuck, it didn’t seem all that pleasant. 

The video began playing, Paul was making out with some muscular guy, sitting on his lap with his back to the camera. It felt weird, seeing another person grope Paul’s perfect ass and hearing the awfully loud moan he’d managed to produce. If he didn’t know Paul, didn’t know how his touch felt, he could see himself getting off to this video just like the other four hundred thousand people. Shit, reality really was a fucking buzzkill when it came to fantasy scenarios. 

A loud knock leaves his heart racing and his phone quickly turned off. He  _should_ be allowed to do whatever the fuck he wanted in the bathroom he paid for, but having a son and wife left little room for freedom. 

“I’m takin’ a shit, fuck off,” John announced to whoever had the gall to knock like the  _ light  wasn’t  _ _on_. 

“You moan when you shit, then?” Paul’s amused voice filtered through the door and John wanted to bash his head against the sink because of course it’d be him knocking. It couldn’t be Julian who’d just leave him alone after being told to fuck off like a good kid. 

“Go to sleep, Paul. ‘S past your bedtime, I reckon,” John just wants to be left alone and not bothered as he, well, finished watching the video. 

“Ain’t no rest for the wicked. Lemme see what you’re watchin’,” Paul scratched at the door with an annoying enthusiasm that matched the tone in his voice. Good to see someone still not giving a damn about the shit he paid for. 

“There’s rest for the wicked if you try hard enough. Now go on and kindly fuck off,” John spat, hoping Paul would take his advice. It wasn’t that hard to leave him alone, yet everyone around him made it seem like it was an impossible thing to do. 

The door knob twists and John rests his head in his free hand, the other tightly gripping his phone. He should’ve thought about locking the damn thing in case something like this happened. 

Paul pops his head in, looking like a deranged maniac. The Shining quickly comes to mind and he bites his tongue to stop from laughing, because he doesn’t want to humor Paul too. 

“Isn’t this a  _pleasant_ surprise!” Paul cheers, fully in the bathroom much to John’s dismay. This time, Paul’s smart enough to look the door behind him. 

“Maybe if you sucked me off,” he quipped sarcastically, fakest smile he could muster on his face. 

Paul laughed and came up to John, pushing his shoulders until his back became flush against the tank behind him. John really thought Paul was going to get on his knees and take him up on his offer, until he felt the weight of the twenty year old on his lap. 

“I don’t blow men for free. Bad for business an’ all,” Paul whispers, making himself at home on John’s lap like he wanted him. 

John looked into Paul’s dark eyes. They were intense to say the least, his stomach doing flips the longer he stared. Maybe being alone was a tad overrated. 

“D’you like how I moan, Johnny?” Paul asked. He’s quite straightforward. Didn’t speak in euphemisms like Cynthia or ignore the situation all together like Julian. 

John shifted uncomfortably under Paul. “Can’t really say. Only heard you moan once before you decided to pop in,” he mumbled, keeping his hands awkwardly pressed up against his stomach to avoid touching Paul. God forbid he ended up liking how Paul felt under his touch. They’d probably end up making a disastrous video. 

“I can do it ‘ere, y’know, if you get me going,” Paul’s lilting gets under his skin, makes it tingle and he can feel himself  _almost_ fall into Paul’s trap. 

“You’re like a siren. Pretty like one too,” John tapped an index finger on Paul’s nose. He doesn’t want to think about Paul’s outlandish idea involving the two of them. Temptation is like a knife* and John forgot the rest of the quote but he was sure it warned against being controlled by temptation or something. 

Paul grabbed John’s wrist as he retracted, smirking when his eyes widened a bit. “Maybe I am one. You’d be none the wiser, either way,” he brought John’s hand down and settled it on his hip, “I’m quite manipulative, supposedly.” 

John curls his fingers instinctively. All he feels is denim and the heat trapped flesh produced. This is fine, he’s felt plenty of hips before anyway. Curvier ones too, thanks to his taste in women. 

“Can’t manipulate someone who doesn’t give a damn now, can you?” John’s proud of his comeback, wanting to knock Paul’s confidence in his abilities down a peg or two. Misery needs company after all. 

Paul doesn’t seem fazed, smirk ever present on his face. “You don’t care? That’s cute,” he leaned in closer, trapping John’s other hand between their torsos. His breath dusted John’s cheeks and his body heat (or how close Paul’s lips were to his own) suffocated him. 

“Y’got a fever? You’re hotter than—”

“Shhh. You don’t give a damn,” Paul mocked, pressing a finger to his lips as he got up. John manages to look even more concerned now, lines on his face that weren’t there before. 

“The fuck are you doing?” It’s cold without Paul’s unnatural heat and he doesn’t understand why he had to just up and leave like that. 

“You  do care. No point in playing the untouchable role now,” Paul flicked John’s nose, softly, obviously not wanting to hurt him. 

John sets his phone down on the rim of the sink and gets up too. He won’t let Paul think he’s smart enough to pull a fast one on him. 

“Fine. I’ll show you just how much I care,” John replied. He buried a hand in Paul’s hair, covering his mouth with his own when Paul opened his to try and speak. He’s sick of carrying a conversation with someone who had an answer to everything anyway. 

Paul’s tongue found its way into his mouth, tracing the inside of it while his hands bunched up his shirt. John’s chest is on fire, relishing Paul’s skilled tongue. Paul tastes like the dinner he didn’t eat and  fuck if that didn’t make him feel famished in more ways than one. His other hand settled on Paul’s neck, slowly pushing him backwards toward a wall. 

John has Paul against the wall, breaking away to breathe. His lungs burned from the lack of oxygen as he tried to take deep breaths. 

“You’re out of breath already,” Paul mused. The hand on his neck moved up to trace his lips, which were slightly swollen from their kiss. 

“Cigs,” John explains as he wedged a knee between Paul’s thighs. He likes how soft Paul’s mouth is compared to his calloused fingertips. It’s a nice difference from feeling nothing all the time. 

Paul snorted. He swatted John’s hand away and occupied himself with John’s neck. Alternating between little bites and opened mouth kisses, he grins when John let’s out a groan and tilts his head to give him more room. 

John  _won’t_ let things go further than this. Making out was a win win for him, he got a little bit of action and let Paul think he’d be willing to record with him which hopefully meant he’d stop being so damn persistent. All he had to do was never text Paul and he was in the clear. 

His stomach drops when Paul’s hips thrust forward a bit and he can feel a full on erection press against his thigh. He wasn’t supposed to sport a hard on like that. 

“Fuck, Paul. I’ve gotta get back to Cyn ‘fore she starts wondering where I am,” John rushes out the words, shoving Paul into the wall as he stepped back. He quickly makes his way to the door and unlocks the door, ready to book it. 

Paul is still pressed against the wall, looking at John confusedly. He looks a little hurt but John ignores it as he opened the door and beelined to his room. He royally fucked up, most likely made everything worse for himself like an idiot. 

His phone still sat on the sink in the bathroom that Paul was probably still in. He tried to ignore the bad feeling settling in his stomach. Paul couldn’t do anything that bad to his phone anyway, since it was locked and his password was 15 digits long (to keep Cyn from snooping, of course). 

John entered his bedroom and lied down in the bed, ignoring Cynthia’s complaint. He attempted to clear his mind and sleep, a creeping feeling of guilt and worry making him feel nauseous. He was going to have another sleepless night, it seemed. 


End file.
